


Don't let this sparkle become a massive fire

by imjustheretohaveafantime



Category: Original Work
Genre: Discussion of Death, Fire, Gaslighting, Gen, and still believing what the abuser told you, fuck yeah my guys it's slightly ominous overly poetic semi fairytale time, i promise this is actually not so sad, implied overbearing family environment, implied terrible family dinamic, in general, leaving your blood family for a better life, she was not having a good time at home but there's nothing graphic/violent, the protagonist's a flame so there's pretty much not escaping that, themes of rebirth after escaping traumatic situations, title from a livy translation because studying latin has to be good for something
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 23:20:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29924373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imjustheretohaveafantime/pseuds/imjustheretohaveafantime
Summary: And yet she yearned, longing for the many thing she'd been prohibited. Sometimes, she would have explained if any means of communication had ever touched her being, sometimes the undiscovered yearns back, and there was nothing she could do to stop its call.Or: what do you do, when lights becomes calming, and the darkness soothes you more than any fire would? What do you do, when your bindings break, your freedom is before you, and your blood is calling back?What do you do, when the danger is more comforting than your home?





	Don't let this sparkle become a massive fire

**Author's Note:**

> One of my small original projects i have been working on shy of a year.  
> Not my best work and a little purply of a prose, but i hope you can still enjoy!

No Flame had never, in their long, eternal, miniscule lives, seen the night and lived long enough to tell the story.

She knew that, and understood the reasoning fairly well. It was normal, for Lights, that with none of them could see in the dark, and as beings born solely to make others see, blindness was terrifying. Light was Them and They were light, in as a pure a form as it could be; they burned bright and consumed quick, with more worries on their small existence to add the discovery of what was Not Theirs.

Only a Few remained lit during the nights, often forced to do so by Higher Beings, and more than often never coming back or dying, exhausted, at the first lights.  
Was it really bad, not to see a world you couldn't explore anyway? To be blind to everything you'd never see?

After all, she had been blind before; being lit for the first time ever, nothing more than a sparkle of consciousness that doesn't know anything about the world, that does not know anything about themselves, it was as near blindness as a creature with no eyes could be.

And yet she yearned, longing for the many thing she'd been prohibited. It may have just been a mean of rebellion, of going against the authorities for no other reason other than the authorities being there, unchangeable and incomprehensible, blocking paths in front of her with more commands than explanations. She did not think so; sometimes, she would have explained if any means of communication had ever touched her being, sometimes the undiscovered yearns back, and there was nothing she could do to stop its call.

She was shamed for her curiosity, as it was meant to be. Flames were unpredictable, sure, but not so irrational. Put paper in a fire, and it will burn. Get too much on their nerves, and they will burn you.  
The Dark was a restricted zone, and a very inflammable one: how could she expect, they said, for light not to be scared of the shadow? For them to openly welcome destruction in their peaceful realm, with no reason but a fleeting feeling of a sparkle?

She didn't expect anything, she would respond. No one had to see it but herself: if her curiosity was a such a danger, letting her go would do nothing but favors to all.

They did not agree, but they could not tell her why, either. There were many things they had to hide, for reasons created by themselves only: one wonders if they, at least, saw sense in their ways. One thinks that it is very unlikely.  
Their disagreement mainly came from a place of power, as many things did; they knew her yearning was not alone in the house, knew so many between the newest flickers did not enjoy serving the Higher Ones as much as they should: they believed (probably in the right) that letting her fulfill her wishes would have welcomed a flood. 

They knew their power could not last, not if the Dark welcomed all that was Theirs.

She wanted to See, and she would, because Flames were irrational things; rather than that, they were forced into irrationality by everything they had done to stop it - control granted them power, and power gave them more control, but too much of either was destined to crash; too many rules and suddenly, the will to want, and to reach those wanted, was stronger than they could ever be.

It had been hard, trying not to die at dusk. Half of the hardship had been habit, the simple muscle memory of what had been her duty; a voice in the back of her head, a voice sounding too much like theirs, telling her of regret and death and suffering, trying to turn her back around by any mean. Yet she did it, clinging from plant to plant, from leaf to leaf, from will to faith to belief, trying to feed herself as many lies she could find to justify what she wanted.

And oh, how sweet of lies they were, for lies that were no lies at all; she'd felt as freedom was a sin, as if achieving a goal of her would have been a betrayal. She felt like the ashes that laced her with them, the one she was destined to remain with, forever, were crying and suffering from her departure.  
They were not, as ashes are merely dust, and any fire would have filled her place just as well. Yet their voices were strong behind her, tainting each belief with a taste of regret.

She saw.  
She saw the blindness everyone talked about, saw the dark as it were, saw before her the source of yearning.  
And regretted not being blind before.

The moon shined bright over her, casting a silver glow on the dark blue cover of the shadows; the light hugged her as a warm blanket, the dark a comforting cool under her feet. Was this how it felt, not to be blinded by everything around you? Was a faint glow so much worse than the inescapable brightness, that burned everything around itself?

She looked in the dark, seeing what she'd always been warned about since she could first comprehend a warning, and just as many times before that, yet she was not scared as all. It was calm, and caring, slow in its breaths and gentle with its voice, calling to her but never pushing. In the dark there was a welcome where in the light would be a leash: convinced as she had been to be in the wrong, she thought it was justified, just to feel this calm a second more.

The night lived, too, and what a life it was! Freedom and chaos in its most beautiful form, a pleasant cacophony of emotions. It was sad, and happy, and both int the same breath. She had never seen anything expressed so freely, with no fear of repercussion or punishment; she had never realized how much she was shackled before, how much freedom she lacked to be really alive.

From the perspective of the Light, nothing Dark was really living: life started at dawn and ended at dusk. Everything in between was fake, a mere reproduction of what the Sun commanded and love.  
Yet, was that really living? They framed their light as a perfect utopia, where everyone who stayed in their place would be nothing but perfectly content; they did not understand how much this was wrong. They wanted everything to be perfect, and in trying that they had drowned anything bad, burned the sadness and hid the anger, truly believing that everything unseen could not make an impact.  
There was freedom, in being imperfect. True happiness came after a storm, true calm lived after a glowing fire: just as the shadow would trap without a source of light, light would blind without a calming shadows.

Life existed in a never ending circle, they always said, without ever understanding what that truly meant.

She stepped forward, and the choir rejoiced. A beautiful collection of songs: rivers flowing in their beds, bringing joy and excitement; shaking leaves on the bridge of falling, colorfully announcing a nearby death yet just as carefree as any other. Late night birds collaborated into the most beautiful of the projects, offering hymns and chants to the gentle Silver Lady and her millions of sisters, as a thank you for life and protection. She responded gratefully, telling stories about them that no one ever told, the stories for them that everyone had always told but never, never like this, loud and grand and yet as gentle as ever, a gift from a mother to her children that somehow bore connection with no shackles nor rules.

A hand fell on her shoulder.  
She turned in fear, for her aggressor more than herself, because flames were irrational and angry and overbearing and what was she, if not the direct copy of everything that had harmed her?

The void chuckled before her, escaping her view at every turn.

"The moon is singing tonight. The Lady and The forest have welcomed you."

A voice told, somewhere behind her. It was as silky as the night itself, embracing her with sensations she didn't know existed; not a flow, but more like a warm, fuzzy shawl, weaved with the sound of crickets and the smell of a branch fallen into the rain.  
It took her hand in a slow spin, dancing slowly as they talked.  
He was not hiding, anymore, but that was not saying much; Shadows were difficult, their form no as stable as a flame would be. She could not recognize, in him, anything resembling anything else; he looked like smoke, denser and fuller, in a gentle shade of deep blue. He was trying to emulate her form, to shape himself in something that matched for her comfort.  
She didn't see the sense in that: why limit their freedom, why imitate a caged creature, just to make her feel better?

"The light is calling for you, you know? There's not much we can do to stop them. They will be angry, especially if they cannot find you."

"They know exactly were I am," she said "and for what reasons I came here. I can only hope you won't get hurt for me".  
And truly, she did. They really had wanted her to out everything else above her freedom and safety; they were wrong, horribly so, but it was often hard for her to remember it.

"Shadows," His silky voice replied, "are tough to hurt and tricky to capture: few of their tricks would work on us."

He spun her around, settling in front of her with their hands joined.

"I am more concerned about you than I should be about us. Is this really the choice you want to take? Do you really want to leave behind your entire life for this? For us?"

No Flame had never, in their long, eternal, miniscule lives, seen the night and lived long enough to tell the story.  
Light was Them and They were light, in as a pure a form as it could be; they burned bright and consumed quick, with more worries on their small existence to add the discovery of what was Not Theirs.

For everything she'd ever been, for everything she'd always been taught, she should've said no. Turned around, tried on the way back, gotten her punishment and changed ideas: being a shadow was supposed to be terrifying, the worst punishment one could ever get from the Higher ones. They had shown it as death, as thought a life that did not burn others had not been a life worth living. 

Yet, she looked in front of herself, way past his shoulders. She heard the song of the forest, basking quietly in the moon's rays as everything waited with bathed breath at their response: the crickets seemed to have silently stopped their singings, the leaves calm in their rustling, just so her voice could be heard high upon all of them. Even in silence, even in anticipation, the dark was alive like nothing else; before her waited not punishment and control, but sweet welcoming words of song.

They seemed to want her, to genuinely hope for her to stay, as if she had been a being worth the love of so many magnificent creatures, and that in itself was a miracle in her eyes.

So no, no light had ever crossed the threshold and come back. No flame had looked the moon in the eyes, and managed to say no. No flicker of fire had ever managed to experience freedom for the first time, the hug of the cold shadows warmer than any match the Higher Ones could have ever created, and decided to get back to the emotionless utopia they were trying to push.

She laughed, loud and bright, the sound echoing for miles and days to come.  
"Am I really leaving anything behind, my Shadow, if my life begins with you?"

**Author's Note:**

> Please do not think too much about the implication of a literal fire going to live in a forest, i will not have any answer for your questions.
> 
> If you want to ask them anyway, you can always come scream at me on my tumblr, @gattonero17


End file.
